


Be Okay

by Semi_problematic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 10:31:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18689713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: Do you stop being a parent when you lose a child?





	Be Okay

"We're worried about Rick." Rosita stood on their front porch, peering inside. The house was normal. Clean and quiet. Rick stood at the kitchen table, busying himself with cutting meat for dinner. He pretended he wasn't listening, his eyes focused on the blood dripping with each cut. Rostia was inspecting. Studying. 

"He's okay." Michonne replied. She didn't sound confident, in fact, she sounded more fearful, and she didn't bother hiding it. No one tried to hide how they felt around Rick anymore. Besides, Rick knew people well enough by now to know. "Losing a child is painful. But we are coping. He is coping." 

"But..." Rosita took a breath, her eyes on Rick. "He hasn't been going out as much. We... wanted to know if there was anything we could do. Hilltop is worried, too. And the Kingdom. We all lost him." 

"But Carl was Rick's son. He was family but... god. That was his kid. It's unfair to believe he will bounce back immediately." 

"Michonne..." Gabe whispered. "The grave we made... it was empty. It still is. Did... did Rick do what he needed to do?" 

Michonne didn't sound surprised. She didn't react much either. Instead, she was silent. Rick saw her turn and eye him. "Shooting someone you love is painful. Maybe-"

"Where is Carl, Michonne?" Rosita asked. She crossed her arms over her chest. "He wouldn't want this." 

"You don't know him like we do." Michonne spoke calmly. Rick smiled to himself. She understood. "He's safe. He's okay." 

"He..." Gabe looked worried. "Michonne, you know better than this. He is dead. Carl isn't..." He lowered his voice. "Carl isn't Carl anymore. That isn't your son."

"It's just his face." Rostia smiled. She was trying to comfort them, but all she was doing was bothering them. Rosita had always been a pest, sticking her nose where it wasn't needed. "He... your boy isn't in there anymore." 

"You don't know what you're talking about. We... we don't know where he is and you assuming that we kept him, like some pet, is absurd. And offensive." Michonne went to close the door, but Gabe stopped it..

"Please... just be honest. We saw Carl's room with the light on. We saw a body in there-" 

"It is our house. We should be able to go into a room and not be stalked. What you two are doing isn't helping. We miss him. We will go to his room." 

"Michonne..." Rosita stepped closer. "Is Carl in your house?" 

Above them a loud shuffling filled the air. Then a thud. Rick smiled to himself and placed the knife on the table. "It's dinnertime. I have everything made." 

"Please, have a good night..." Michonne shoved Gabe's hand away, a painfully fake smile plastered across her lips. "And leave us alone." She closed the door before they could say another word. 

Rick looked up at Michonne, smiling. "I told you they would notice." 

"I'll bury something tomorrow so they don't notice. Tell them that it just took us a little while to cope with it."

Rick chuckled as they walked up the stairs, him carrying the tray of bloody meat. "Coping. Like we would even need that. They're acting like we went insane because we lost a child." 

"They have a habit of doing that." Michonne followed Rick down the hall. "Wish they would back off. We don't suffocate them when they lose someone." 

"Maybe it's because he was a kid." Rick shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We're doing just fine." 

Michonne turned the door knob and stepped inside. "Exactly."

"And it's their problem if they don't believe it." 

Chains clicked against each other and a soft groan filled the air. In the corner of the room stood Carl, patches of hair and skin missing. The room smelled like death and decay as he stumbled towards them, his mouth hanging open. Carl's socket stood proudly on his face, his bangs too tangled to cover the mutilated scar. 

He growled and staggered as he walked, arms reaching out as far as the chains would allow. Michonne stood by the door as Rick went closer, handing him the plate, chuckling when he dropped it. Carl dropped to his knees and grabbed at the meat, stuffing it into his mouth messily. Rick took both of his wrists and leaned in, kissing his forehead. Blood dripped from Carl's mouth and onto his lap. 

"He's just fine. I don't know why they're so worried."

Rick shook his head, stroking Carl's hair. "Me neither."


End file.
